Rain, Romance, Alien World
by Rose Midnight Moonlight Black
Summary: Rain. Romance. Alien World. What else could you need for a blossoming love story? ...Er... If they don't kill each other first... Terry McGinnis/Rex, BatmanII/Warhawk, WarBat


**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

 **Warning: Terry McGinnis/Rex Stewart, Batman/Warhawk, WarBat pairing!**

* * *

 **Rain. Romance. Alien World.**

Today was not their day.

The rain was light but drenching, and had been tumbling down for the last thirty minutes. Already the top under his borrowed jacket was damp and heavy. It was _really_ irritating. This was on top of the fact that they were on a foreign _planet,_ a couple of sectors over from Earth; had lost their ship, their comms were out and they had been forced to exchange their costumes for more native wear. Oh, and they were being pursued by a bunch of international hit men through an alien slum.

In the rain.

To make matters even _worse_ , Superman informed him – just as their communications cut out – that he had decided to do Terry a favour and have Iris West (Kid Flash) and Robbie Hawkins (Shockwave) keep an eye on both Gotham and Bruce. Batman was now genuinely afraid he was going to return to find either the two teenage heroes had – somehow – melted Gotham or that he had two bodies to hide and alibis to make up for when their parents came looking.

He wasn't sure what he'd prefer. But when he got back (and it was when and not if, despite how bleak their situation was looking right now) he was going to ensure Clark _never_ did him a favour again.

The rain was doing nothing for the depressing thoughts in his head. It only reminded him of home.

A sharp tug at his arm and Terry turned left, ducked into an alleyway. He hurried down without checking if he was being followed. It was easy to get lost in the slums, but it was proving much harder to shake their persistent hunters that they had hoped.

Rex slid to a stop, gesturing hurriedly to vacant cart. Hunching down behind a cart, his knees digging into the mud and soaked to the bone, Terry swore he was never ever going to let the League talk him into any more space missions. Not Kal, not Danny Queen, nor Barry Allen II, not Marina. Not even Rex Stewart. Never. And if he ever, for a brief second, allowed himself considered leaving Gotham to help the League, he'd remember this– Cold, frustrated and stranded on an alien world with no one but the _companionable_ Warhawk while they were hunted down by the very people they had tried to help.

 _ **Never. Again.**_

Two of the hitmen ran past, their heavy boots making squelching noises in the mud. Terry held his breath as they moved away down another side alley – it would just be their luck to be caught and have to fight their way out, yet again. They waited silently for a few minutes encase their pursuers doubled back (again) before standing up and running. Down a different alleyway. Anywhere _away_ was preferable.

"Now what?"

Terry voiced as they re-emerged into a market-square like area, full of bursting people wear similar dark hooded jackets and cloaks. They merged seamlessly into the crowd, deliberately keeping their heads down. While Jarque was a planet of predominately humanoid species, their fair skins was strangely fascinating to the literally multi-coloured Jarquians. Already Terry had found himself almost sold off to a 'collector' of 'exotic beings', and was by no means amused. Rex could laugh all he wanted, being arrest and sold in the equivalent of a slave auction had done nothing to improve Batman's temperament today.

Arguably, it was harder to say who Rex had truly saved; Terry from some corrupt alien or said alien from the grasp by a very ticked off Bat. Terry was far from being _simply_ a pretty face after all. And Gothamites did tend to have a rather vindictive sense of vengeance.

"We lay low. Contact the League for back up." Rex adjusted his bag, which jingled with his compacted armour.

Terry stopped dead in the crowd.

"Just how are you planning on doing that? – When our communication went up in smoke when Tarsk betrayed us? Smoke signals? Message in a bottle? _Bird calls_?" Terry snarked, water trickled down his cold neck. Pushed on by the crowd, they turned down another alley, moving out of the market, eyes open for guards and hit men.

Rex glared at him. His green eyes practically flashed in a 'please can you stop being such a sarcastic pain the ass for once?' sort of way. Terry tended to provoke that look when he was in a particularly _humorous_ mood. But unfortunately, for Rex, black humour was a trait the Bats had in abundance.

Terry rolled his eyes and glared backbecause _this_ is _entirely your fault, you pig-headed, proud dreg!_

"What? Do you _have_ a plan? Or did the whole 'let's trust Tarsk despite the fact he has no evidence _but_ a motive to try a kill us' not work out? I'm sure letting him get away was part of it too!" the Bat hissed at his companion.

Rex spun round, his robes flaring at his feet and his teeth gnashing together.

"Oh, so I _should_ have _left_ you to be enslaved by the leech, should I? _Since that wasn't part of the oh-so terrible plan_." He waved a hand in the air wildly, fingers curled into a fist, "I should have still gone after Tarsk instead, then!"

Terry was never one to back down from a fight. It was one of his worst qualities actually – once you've face Bruce Wayne down, it's hard to back down from anyone else. He stepped forwards, directly into Rex's space.

" _That was entirely your fault!_ I told you we shouldn't trust Tarsk and you ignored me as always because _you're the 'experienced' Leaguer_ and _I'm 'just a Rookie'_. Well, guess who turn out to be right!"

"How was I supposed to know he was the traitor? Or that he was setting us up? He asked for help and we couldn't deny him it." Rex growled back. They stepped into an empty side street without prompting. Their voices were steadily rising and arguing in an alien tongue would only rouse the Jaques' interest.

"And the fact you _are_ a rookie had nothing to do with it!"

The Bat snorted, "Oh of course not. And we definitely could have left Tarsk, no government official is ever that helpful. Not even on another world, Warhawk." Terry started down the small street, pointedly ignoring Rex.

Or at least until Rex grabbed his arm and slammed him into a wall.

The man's eyes actually did glowed, Terry noticed absently. Especially when he was angry. It was not an entirely unattractive quality. He refrained from placing his foot on Rex's chest and pushing. Yet while Rex's grip wouldn't any lasting damage, it also wouldn't be easy to slip out of. Anyone else, Terry would have removed their hands rather violently but Rex wasn't one for random physical contact. The suddenness of it made him tense up then relax in the grip.

He trusted Rex Stewart, though God only knew why. And despite being thrown against a wall, Terry didn't think for a second Rex would actually hurt him – Rex wasn't that kind of a man. Really.

"Do you know what you problem is, McGinnis?" The man demanded (then carried on before Terry's smart mouth could insert something witty), " _Your_ problem is you think you need to take control and be responsibility for everything. You need to feel in charge of what going on _all. The. Time."_

Rex was very close, his eyes burning through sheer intensity, " _Yes_ , I messed up. _Yes_ , I very nearly got us both killed. And _Yes,_ I am _very_ much aware of what the pig was going to do if I hadn't shown up – _Shut up."_

Rex cut off him before the Bat could protest he hadn't _needed_ saving. And really, he hadn't. But that wasn't the point.

"I made a mistake, a stupid one but mistake. And I'll take full responsibility for that with the rest of the League _when_ we get back. But you need to take a second and remember that _I'm_ the one in charge here, not you. You haven't screwed this up, so stop feeling angry at yourself for what's happened. I know you're angry and edgy –"

Rex's hand moved to cover Terry's mouth, because there was _no other way_ to stop the unhappy growl at that, " _I'm_ angry at myself, and I was… nervous too when that trader got his hands on you, _I'm sorry_."

Rex's eyes didn't soft with that confession. For some reason Terry didn't quite understand, the admission didn't make Terry think any less of him. Nor did the fact that Rex was more at ease with his feeling that Terry was, shock him. Bats weren't known for being a touchy feely bunch, and Terry was becoming more used to supressing and channelling his emotions into his actions than facing them.

So it took Terry a second to realise that a lot of the angry in Rex's eyes was directed at himself, instead of Terry. _Although_ Rex still looked like he wanted to punch him.

How _unusual._

Rex reluctantly remove his hand from Terry's mouth, "So will you please shut up for a minute about how _I_ fucked up and focus on what we're going to do to get out of here? Because I _don't_ have a plan."

He didn't back out of the Bat's personal space. He remained where he was, pressed against Terry with their heads resting together. Strangely that didn't bother Terry at all.

"I didn't know you cared so much," he settled on, since the other retorts in his head were of varying levels of inappropriate. He really didn't know what to say to Rex – he was flattered, a little glad that Rex cared and massively uncomfortable with the whole open exchange of feelings going on. He didn't appreciate Rex pointing out how nervous he had been despite the fact Terry could easily kick the trader's ass with restraints still in place.

Rex didn't blink, "Of course I care, twip. You're a part of the League, official or not, and we're partners. It's my responsibility to get you home safe."

"And that's where you're wrong Rex." Terry pushed back. Literally.

"I don't need you to take _responsibility_ for me or boss me about. If we're working together, League or not, we work as equal partners, minimum. We're both responsible, even when things fuck up. _Especially_ when things fuck up." Terry leant forwards, brushing against Rex ever so slightly.

He poked Rex pointedly in the chest, "They thought I was easy, they thought I was helpless without my suit. They were wrong. _You_ think you need to act all _team leader_ just because you're older and more experienced. Well guess what, _you're_ wrong too. I don't get babied in Gotham, I don't have anyone covering my back and I don't have anyone to blame but myself if anything goes wrong."

His blue eyes narrowed heatedly, "I look after Gotham _on my own. Everything_ is my responsibility, experience be damned. So I don't care if the league 'put' you in charge, I'm not taking orders from you and I'm not going to stand back, let you fuck up and do nothing because its _'your responsibility' –_ "

The kiss was totally unexpected.

Honestly, he wasn't sure who kissed who exactly, but he kissed back anyway. Their lips mashed together with frustration and eagerness. And they didn't break apart until they ran out of breath.

They didn't say anything, both a little unnerved. By what they had just done and by how much they had enjoyed it. The glow in Rex's eyes didn't necessarily fade but it changed to something a little less pissed off and more something else.

"…I'm not going to stop being mad at you every time you kiss me," Terry pointed out cattily, before pulling Rex into another kiss. He'd let that slid, just this once.

Rex awkwardly pulled back. Terry tried to push down the heart that had leapt into his throat, "Terry…"

Oh.

"What?" He snapped, finally pushing Rex back off of him. The disguised Hawk stumbled, water splashing up around his ankles.

Rex blinked, rather owlishly, back at him, "I can't feel my toes anymore. Maybe we should go somewhere _dry_. _Lie low_. For at least the night."

He reached out his hand and, hesitantly, took Terry's. The Bat started slightly, but didn't pull away. Terry squeezed them, hiding behind a defensive attitude only Warhawk – only Rex - seemed to bring out in him.

"That's best idea you've had all day."

* * *

Review, please?


End file.
